


Novae

by Rowantreeisme



Series: Star!Tony [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowantreeisme/pseuds/Rowantreeisme
Summary: Novae: An apparent new star, visible because of a sudden and drastic increase in brightness, usually caused by the death of the existing star.





	Novae

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH SO I've had this written for. Actually forever but I kinda... abandoned it? not sure if I'm gonna write more (but knowing me, probably) but here's it so far!

Steve had watched the light from the alien’s magic envelop Tony. He’d watched helplessly as it tore pieces of the armour off as Tony thrashed. 

He watched Tony fall, and the monstrosity that had killed him, turn, no longer interested in its prey.

And now, Steve was beside Tony, who was lying on the ground, silent and still and a horrible, terrifying mirror of the day he fell from the portal, and Steve wished more than  _ anything  _ that he’d open his eyes, even if they were inhuman and filled with starlight. 

Except he wasn't breathing, and there was no heartbeat, and worst of all, the light of the reactor, the  _ real _ one, because the chestplate had been one of the first things torn off, was dead.

Tony was dead, and they were all going to be next, and all Steve could thing to do was hold on and brace himself. 

The monster drew closer. 

Tony opened his eyes, and once again, they were filled with the universe. 

Except, there was no heaving gasp, no tired but triumphant smile. No questions or witty comments. The reactor was bright again, but too bright, almost blinding. Not soft and alive and comforting. This light was icy, and above all, there was still no heartbeat. 

Tony was dead, and Steve watched as he stood up, eyes empty and endless in a way that he hadn't seen before, face just…  _ blank _ , not a mask, not a facade, but just  _ blank _ , and walked towards the monster. 

It wasn't Tony. That was far too obvious. 

Especially when he stopped, staring the monster down in his destroyed armour, and screamed. 

Steve was never going to forget that sound, the wailing inhuman for its timbre and pitch and the fact that it was in more than one voice, the fact that it carried meaning that Steve’s brain was unable, or unwilling, to translate. 

The words that came after.

The monster sent its magic at… not  _ Tony _ , Tony was dead and gone and Steve could  _ not _ have hope, and it parted like a stream. “ **_You have taken Ours,_ ** ” Whatever was possessing the remains of his friend said, in too many voices in too flat a tone, and the monster roared. 

Tony’s body stepped forwards, and a massive claw swiped through it cleanly, cutting him in  _ half _ , but his body just reformed, though with cracks growing like the inside of the sun creeping up his arms and neck, and it hurt to look at him now, like staring into a star, but Steve couldn't tear his eyes away. “ **You will** **_cease._ ** ” The thing said, and light flared from it, bright, too bright, brighter than the sun in the sky, as bright as a supernova, so bright that his eyes burned, even through his eyelids. 

The light was snuffed out, though the afterimage took a little longer to clear, and when Steve could finally see, Tony’s body was lying on the ground again. 

The monster, behind him, was pulverized, charred to ash and torn apart and crushed.

Steve didn’t feel like they’d won much of anything.

\---

Tony didn't remember any of that. What he did remember, was dying. 

Dying, after the monster had tried to rip him apart and mostly succeeded, with too many broken bones to count, his neck among one of them, dying either from that or the shrapnel finally finishing its journey after the reactor had failed, dying and waking up feeling like he was burning up from the inside out.

He could feel every one of his capillaries, his arteries and his veins, and all of them were on fire, and his heart  _ oh god- _

He choked on a scream as it somehow got  _ worse _ , flares of white-hot fire racing out from his heart, and he couldn't see  _ anything _ but he couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or he just  _ couldn’t _ see, and his blood was boiling and if he was capable of thinking through the pain, he might’ve thought he was in hell. 

And then there was a light, blue and cool and he was still burning, but the ice raced through his veins, freezing out the fire and it still  _ hurt _ , but the relief of not burning up anymore far outweighed the pain. 

Slowly, or quickly, he couldn’t tell, it could’ve been an eternity for all he knew, the pain receded altogether, and he gained awareness of his body again. So, he hadn’t died, apparently. 

Well, good. He didn't really want to die, but it was still a bit of a surprise after the thing had all but torn him apart. 

And the pain. Things that hurt that much didn’t tend to be survivable.

The first thing he noticed, when he opened his eyes from where he was laying on the pavement, was that the monster was completely pulverized, crushed and shredded and burned to cinders, when nothing his team had done had even scratched it’s hide. 

And that his team was standing quite a distance away, huddled in close and somber, Clint and Natasha leaning heavily on each other, Bruce wrapped in what looked like a restaurant awning, and Tony couldn’t think of a reason  _ why _ because no one had died, all the civilians had been evacuated at the first signs of the thing, SHIELD had kept them away and contained and they’d won, hadn’t they? 

“Hey-” Tony croaked, coughed, inhaled for the first time in about a minute, sat up, and tried again. “Hey!” 

Steve was the first to notice him, and he whirled around, shield up instinctively. “Tony?” He called, and it sounded like a question.

Tony stood up, staggering a little, like he’d been asleep for a really long times, and his legs had forgotten how to stand. “What happened?” He asked, and took a step closer. 

As one, his team took a step back. 

\---

Tony was on the roof. 

On the roof, because it’d taken three override codes for JARVIS to believe that he was  _ him _ , his team was still split, Clint, Thor and Bruce all in SHIELD medical, Steve and Natasha avoiding the common rooms because they were  _ scared _ of him, scared of what he could do, and it would hurt if he didn’t feel the exact same way, and he didn't think that he could deal with his bots being that scared either, on top of everything else, because he wasn't human anymore.

He didn’t even look it anymore, because his eyes were still jet-black voids, and there were cracks ranging from inch-wide chasms to hair-width spiderwebs covering nearly every part of him, filled with stars.

He wasn’t human, and, quite possibly, immortal. Almost definitely invulnerable. 

That was… not ok. That was so far from ok he couldn't even  _ begin _ to express how absolutely completely and  _ utterly _ terrifying the thought of living forever was.   

The thought of everyone, all his friends and family and teammates, dying while he still had to live.

Yeah. So he was on the roof.

It would be far too easy just to fall. Just a couple inches forwards, and he would. Not that it would  _ do _ anything. It probably wouldn’t even hurt. Nothing really hurt, anymore, possibly the only perk of the entire situation, the constant, dull ache of the reactor was  _ gone _ , a warmth like sunlight in its place.

Not that he hadn’t considered jumping, more of an idle curiosity than anything else. Would his body crack apart at the fissures? Would it even damage him? Would he bleed? Did he  _ have _ blood? Would the pavement crack? Would he even fall at all?

His phone ringing snapped him out of his decidedly morbid thoughts. “Hey Pep.” Tony answered, not having to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Tony hadn’t told her yet, hadn’t wanted to do it over the phone or a screen. 

Hadn’t really wanted to admit it outloud, either.

There was nothing but what sounded suspiciously like a sob over the line for a couple seconds. “... Tony?” She asked, barely a whisper.

Tony sighed. “Who told you?”

Pepper paused. “No one told me. No one had too. There’s- there’s a video.” She said, and Tony’s heart dropped.

He had a feeling he knew what the video was of, even if he didn't remember. Or, he did, he remembered  _ dying _ , then pain, he remembered waking up, but he didn't remember his body being hijacked by the universe and shredding a rampaging monster. 

He was pretty sure he was lucky that he didn't remember, the way that his team looked at him after the fact, because they were afraid of him now. They didn’t say anything, they were too good for that, but they were.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn't, either. Because he was pretty fucking terrified about the whole deal himself. “Where? Did you watch it?”

Pepper took a deep breath. “Just- just SHIELD servers, and no, JARVIS said- and-”

“I’m sorry.” He blurted. “I’m sorry and I don’t-”

“Tony,” Pepper interrupted, “Are you alright?” 

Tony laughed, and it was more like a sob. “No. No I’m not. I’m really,  _ really _ not.” 

Pepper paused. “I’ll be there soon.” She said, and Tony didn't try to protest it. She’d come weather he wanted her too or not.

She’d die weather he  _ could _ or not.

The line clicked dead, and Tony looked up for the first time. 

The stars were too bright, too present, especially for this early in the night, when the sun had just set. Especially too bright for the middle of New York.  _ Why? Why me?  _ Why did he get chances after chances to live, when people who were  _ better _ than him had to die? 

_ You ceased. That is unacceptable.  _ The stars responded, as if that answered anything, and there was a sense of hesitation.  _ Life, it ceases. We watch, but we do not know. We can not know. You ceased,  _ the stars said, soft and sad and grieving,  _ We know you. You are part of us. We can keep you.  _ They said, and Tony understood. Life was precious, to them, because it always ended. The stars  _ didn't _ . They died, but it was in fire and light and rebirth, supernovae creating nebulae that grew new stars, endless iterations of the same shared consciousness. 

They couldn't stop their life from dying, and suddenly, it occurred to Tony that they might be just as lost and confused as he was. 

If he had to watch the people he loved die, over centuries, over  _ millennia,  _ would he pass up the chance to keep one of them safe?

_ But… Why this? Why did you make me into this?  _ He asked, pleaded, because he understood, but he  _ didn't want this _ . He didn't want to be dead, either, but he didn't want his friends to edge towards the exits whenever he was in the same room as them, worry, or worse yet  _ terror _ in their eyes, and he didn’t want his own creation to refuse to let him in the building. He didn’t want to remember  _ dying,  _ he didn't want to know that he could be possessed by the universe at any time with no warning, and he didn't want to know that he could bring the building down in less than a heartbeat.

Someone else’s heartbeat, that is, because  _ he didn’t have one anymore _ . 

_ … You are safe. _ The stars said, as if they couldn’t possibly fathom  _ why _ this would be an issue.  _ You will not be harmed. You will  _ not _ cease. Is that not a good thing? _

_ That’s not the fucking point! _ Tony snapped.  _ I’m not  _ me _ anymore. I’m not  _ human _ , and you made me like this without my permission!  _

_ We saved you. _ The stars said, in that same confused tone, and the words brought him back to  a lifetime ago, to another place, to another man who’d saved him against his will. He’d been terrified then too.  _ You will not cease _ . The stars repeated.

_ What if I want to? _ He thought, whisper-quiet even in his own head.  _ What if, years from now, everyone, my friends, my- my  _ family _ , they’re all- _ Tony broke off, unable to think the word, even in his own head,  _ What if i’m the only one left? What if millennia, I’m the only  _ person _ left? _

_ Then you will be with us. _

Tony laughed, a short broken bark.  _ I don’t want to be alone. _ He admitted.  _ Just… let me cease. When it’s time, let me cease. _ He said, because stars could die. They died all the time, went supernova or collapsed into black holes, but they didn’t  _ stop _ . They never stopped  _ being _ . 

The stars did not respond.

\---

Tony was standing outside the doors to the workshop.

It was possibly the only time he’d ever hesitated going in. “Sir,” JARVIS said, sounding worried and tired and too many things that Tony had never wanted for him.

“Yeah, J?” Tony said, palm still pressed against the glass wall. The bots were wheeling around inside, doing their jobs like nothing had happened.

“They  _ will _ know you. They will not be afraid.” JARVIS said.

Tony laughed, a sharp broken bark of a sound, and let his forehead fall to rest against the surface of the glass. “You didn’t,” He muttered, the words nearly a whisper, “You thought- you pulled the  _ Tower defences  _ on me, J,” The next words were a rush, nearly falling out, “And I don’t blame you. I- I’m not-”

“You are still our creator.” JARVIS cut him off firmly, and the words sounded like heartbreak, and pride, and  _ love,  _ warm and familiar and just as all-encompassing as what he felt from the stars, but this was JARVIS and Tony had  _ made _ him, made him with his own two hands and not with powers he wasn’t sure he could control, and Tony was grateful for it. “You are still  _ ours _ . They  _ will _ know you, if we help them understand. They  _ will _ understand.” And the way JARVIS said it, forcefull and sharp but still warm, sounded less like a desperate plea, and more like a promise.

The doors slid open, and all three bots swiveled towards it, and Tony smiled despite himself at the way they all perked up at seeing him. “Hey guys. You miss me?” He said, grinning as the bots rushed over, wheeling around him and chirping, poking at him, because somehow, in between him coming home from Afghanistan and New York, they’d decided that checking him for injuries every time he entered the workshop was a good idea.

It would be funnier if it hadn’t turned out to be necessary, a couple of times. 

He patted the tops of their cameras, twisting to keep them in view, and for a moment, Dummy rolled over his foot and Tony swore at him, and things were  _ normal _ . Things were  _ good _ .

And then Butterfingers spotted the cracks on the hand that was resting on his arm, chirping in concern and drawing the other two over, and Tony froze.

Except, none of them freaked out, or backed away, or pushed  _ him _ away, just looked up at him, beeping questioningly. “I’m fine.” He said, trying to be reassuring. “It’s not hurting me.” He said, and that, was apparently, all they needed to hear.

They zipped back off to do their jobs, after coaxing more pats from Tony, and something that had been locked tight inside his ribcage, something worse than fear, finally faded. He dropped onto a nearby chair, sending it spinning towards a workbench, and rolled his shoulders. “Alright, the armor’s…”  _ Incinerated, vaporized, crushed burned torn- _ “... _ Gone _ , so, what kinda tech have we got pointed at earth..” He said, and JARVIS pulled up the hologram readings.

After a couple minutes, and one phone call to NASA where he’d had to pull a  _ lot _ of favors, he had his data. Not much, considering very, very few of the satellites pointing  _ at _ earth weren’t looking for this kind of thing, or even had the sensors to see it, it was a miracle he got anything at all. 

What he  _ did _ , get, however, made  _ no fucking sense _ . So he called Jane Foster. 

She picked up on the third ring with a yawn, but she didn’t seem surprised to hear from him. “Oh, hello, Tony. Did you need anything? I’ve got a bit of time right now while the night shift here rotates out. Did the fight go ok? I haven't heard anything from Darcy yet.” She said, and Tony could hear the shuffling of papers and the clink of ice in a glass of what was probably coffee, considering it would be around 5 am where she was.

Tony pretended to ignore the question. “Yeah, I’ve got some readings i want you to look at. Just, tell me what you think of them.” He said, and waited while Jane presumably looked them over.

She hummed. “I don’t know why you needed me for this. The emission lines are pretty obviously from a type 2 supernova. What’s this for?” She asked, still distracted, probably already moved on from the readings. 

Tony sighed. “Yeah, I thought so too.” He said, and something in his voice must’ve sounded wrong, because Jane suddenly sounded way less distracted.

“Is… Is everything okay? I mean, I would’ve heard if it wasn’t, right?” Jane asked, and  _ shit _ , she sounded worried and a little bit frantic, like she was expecting Tony to give her the bad news.

“No, no. Everyone’s fine. Mostly fine. Clint broke his arm, his leg, and cracked a couple ribs, but those are the worst of the injuries. Everything else…” God, everything else. The fact that no, not everyone was fine, because he was  _ dead _ , the fact that he wasn’t human anymore. “You’ll find out soon, probably. Bye.” 

He hung up on Jane’s confused noises, which was probably rude, but he didn’t really care at that point.

Because she was right.

According to the sensors, and really, it was a fucking miracle they weren’t  _ vapour _ , a couple hours ago, Tony had been in the center of a supernova.

No, correction. He’d  _ been _ the center of a supernova. “Well, shit.” He said, staring down at his hands, at the jagged cracks, branching out along his wrist and hands like lightning, like fissures in ice or glaciers, moving and spreading like a living thing, a physical reminder of how he was coming apart at the seams.

He wondered how long it’d take for him to fracture completely.

So he stood up, closed his eyes, and looked, looked at the universe that was infinitely far away and inside him and both at once. It was different than before, he wasn’t just an observer, wasn’t an outsider, he was  _ part _ of it.

The stars were talking, whispering, connecting with each other and they weren't talking to  _ him _ but he could hear them anyway, sending bursts of colours that human eyes just, just  _ couldn’t _ comprehend, sending light and pride and love, like AI’s exchanging data packets, and there were infinite stars and infinite words and it should’ve been too much for him to process, too much to even  _ begin _ to understand it, because it was an  _ infinite  _ amount of data and he was  _ comprehending it all _ .

He could see the fabric of spacetime, folding and curving and bending around stars and planets and black holes, and he could  _ touch  _ it, he could tug and pull and change the fabric of reality, he could  _ tear  _ it, and it was  _ right there- _

Someone touched his arm, his physical arm, and he snapped back to his body with a force that nearly bowled him over. 

And Clint was there, in front of him, leaning heavily on the workbench, casted arm held at an awkward angle in front of him, head ducked to look him in the eyes. “Hey, Tinman. You with me?” He said, voiced laced with concern, and despite the forced nature of the words, the nickname made him feel warm inside.

Tony turned away, pretending to be immersed in his computers, unwilling to see the fear that he  _ knew _ would be there. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He said, waving a hand dismissively. “Wait, weren't you in medical?” Tony asked, turning despite himself. 

Clint shrugged, leaning even more fully on the bench. “I flew the coop. You get it.” He said, and turning had been a mistake, a huge mistake, because Clint was looking at him now, calculating and sharp and seeing everything Tony was trying to hide. “I really don't think you’re fine, though. Look, the team sent me-” 

Tony snorted, and spun back around, arms automatically crossing over his chest as he bent in front of the monitor. “Yeah, well, you can tell them I’m not gonna do anything too world-destroying.” He snapped, and he'd cracked, there was too much emotion in his words, the words that were meant to be dismissive or flippant were too biting, too  _ scared _ , and he hunched forwards even more. 

There was a beat of silence. “Tony, what the  _ fuck?! _ They’re  _ worried _ about you, we all are-”

And Tony snapped. “Look-” He snarled, spinning around and slamming his hand down on the bench, furious and terrified in equal measure, “I  _ know _ you’re all scared of me, that’s been  _ pretty fucking obvious _ , considering Rogers and Romanoff all but bolted out of the room, but you don’t have to  _ lie _ about it to make me  _ feel _ better!” He spat, vitriol and spite and  _ hating _ himself, hating what he could do and what he  _ was _ now, hating the fucking monster which was now paste on the pavement. “In case what,” He barked out a laugh, throwing his arms wide. “You hurt my  _ feelings _ and I go  _ ballistic _ again? I know you’re scared.” He repeated, softer this time, because Clint had this  _ look  _ on his face, horrified and dismayed in near equal measure. “You don’t have to lie about it.” 

Tony tried to turn away, too defeated to see Clint’s face when he admitted it, that they’re scared of him, and the loss of his team almost felt like another hole in his chest. He’d live though. Or not. Poor choice of words. He tried to turn, but Clint’s hand caught his arm, grip weak and wavering, and just a second later Clint had stumbled forwards and Tony had to do an awkward half-catch that nearly landed both of them on the floor, but Clint didn’t lose his hold.

“We’re not-” Clint started, stopped, chewed on the thought like something bitter, and tried again. “Goddamnit, I can’t say we’re not scared because we _are!”_ Clint said, sounding helplessly frustrated and infuriated and like he wanted to pace, wanted to do _something_. “Tony, we’re all fucking _terrified,_ Nat and Steve especially, because you’re our _friend_ and they _had to watch you die!_ ” Clint said, desperate, and Tony was still only barely comprehending this.

“I remember.” Tony croaked, and that hadn’t been something he’d admitted, even to himself, but he _did_ , he remembered how it felt for his _neck_ _to snap_ , he remembered what it was like to die.

He remembered the nothingness that came after.

Clint blinked at him, and Tony could see the thought process, the confusion to the horrified realization, and to just dismay, and he sighed, bowing his head so it was nearly resting on Tony’s chest, and they were pretty much hugging, at that point, albeit the awkwardest hug he’d ever been a part of, with Clint’s cast sandwiched between them and Tony still half turned away, and Tony was too tired not to accept the small, somewhat accidental comfort. “Steve was right there, you know. I don’t- I’m not saying I know what’s going on in his head, but I know he couldn’t find your pulse. And that he saw you get up.” Clint said, and Tony froze, numb and vaguely nauseous because he’d thought- they hadn’t been there, they’d been halfway down the street and they hadn’t had to  _ see _ , because he’d felt how broken his body had been, and if Steve-

“And I’d bet that he’s afraid that if he sees you, it wouldn’t be  _ you _ .” Clint finished softly. “We all need time. And it’s time none of us are going to get.” He said, and somehow they’d ended up on the floor, back-to-back, holding each other up, the imperfect rhythm of Clint’s breath comforting, even if breathing wasn’t really necessary anymore, at least for Tony. “I- I am  _ so _ not the person for this.” Clint said, and Tony huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah. What the hell are we  _ doing _ ? This is  _ awful _ .” Tony said, and against his will, a laugh, more a hysterical chuckle than anything else, bubbled up his throat and escaped in a bright burst of sound, and then Clint joined in and they were both howling with laughter that was a little too close to outright sobbing, and Dummy was pushing mugs of…  _ something _ into both of their hands, and for a moment, Tony thought that he might just be alright.

The moment stretched, even after they stopped shaking, and just sat, back-to-back and half under the workbench, on the floor of Tony’s lab while his bots tried to… Tony didn’t know what the  _ fuck _ they were doing, except whatever it was they were doing it poorly, and he laughed again, and didn’t even try to hold it back, because he was laughing at his amazing, dumb bots, and that, that was normal.

Clint cleared his throat during another quiet moment. “You know,” He said, and Clint was almost as bad at this as he was, and in a way, that was a good thing, because they were  _ going _ to fuck this up, probably already had, but at least it wouldn’t just be him floundering for the right words, “If you need to, I dunno, just talk, I’m here. If you want.” He said, and Thor help him, he was actually considering it. 

“I can see everything.” Tony finally said, and he felt Clint’s back tense slightly against his, bracing himself, not because he was scared, but because he wanted to be ready for whatever Tony might say. “I can see the fabric of spacetime, I can see light and gravity and the threads that hold the universe together, and, It’s- the universe doesn't  _ end _ , it just,” He said, and the gesture he made was so, so woefully inadequate because he was trying to describe the whole  _ universe. “ _ It just keeps  _ going _ , and I can feel  _ all _ of it. Every star, every planet, every burst of light and every supernova, in colours I can’t even  _ describe _ because there aren’t words for them and it’s  _ infinite _ .” And he was speaking faster and faster, the words falling out of his mouth like a tidal wave, flowing out and he couldn’t control them, but he didn’t care because he’d been drowning before, and the water was rushing out. “I- I shouldn’t even be able to  _ see _ that much data, let alone process and comprehend it, but I  _ do _ , and, that’s  _ impossible _ . And- you really have no frame of reference for this, do you.” Tony asked, fairly rhetorically. Clint shook his head anyway. 

“Ok. Well, Humans were  _ never _ meant to understand things that big. Even the  _ earth _ is too big, sometimes. We just, we look at the ground under our feet and the fact that it’s hurtling through space at millions of miles an hour, it just doesn't compute. At all.” Tony said, gesturing wildly and Clint’s shoulders were rising and falling in semi-silent laughter, and he was shaking his head vigorously. 

“Stark, what the  _ hell  _ are you talking about?” He asked, still laughing, and Tony knew that had to be hell on his ribs but hey, everyone always said laughter was the best medicine.

“Just, imagine when you’re looking through files, of targets or other SHIELD personnel, makes no difference. How long does it take you to read, let's say two pages of it? And retain all the information” Tony added quickly, already knowing the rest of the equations, already knowing how to leap to the answers even though he was missing a variable. “Whatever, just, probably about a minute? Minute and a half? Well, JARVIS does the equivalent of about, Jesus, I dunno. J?” Tony asked.

“Approximately 5,000 a second, Sir.” JARVIS said, and Clint let out a low whistle. 

Tony nodded and continued. “Yeah, see, JARVIS could do that for  _ years _ . That same output, that same amount of data every second for  _ centuries _ , and it would  _ never _ be anywhere close to the amount of stuff going through my head in a  _ millisecond _ , it’s like comparing a single drop in a bucket to the fucking  _ Niagara Falls _ , to the outflow of every river on  _ earth _ , because JARVIS will only ever have a finite amount of data, and I’ve got an  _ infinite amount _ and it’s  _ constant _ .” He bit out, frustrated because  _ no one _ was going to understand, no one  _ could _ , because human minds weren’t built for that, weren’t built for looking past eternity, even JARVIS, with the speed his mind so much faster than a human, processing so much more raw data, just…  _ couldn’t _ , because he’d been programmed when  _ Tony _ couldn’t either.

Clint nudged him, and he was sitting perpendicular to Tony now, back against the workbench and his side against Tony’s back, the looking at him sidelong. “Hey, you know you’re glowing, right?” He said, and Tony blinked.

And, huh. He was. The stars in the cracks in his skin had gotten brighter, or bigger, or  _ closer _ , and he could see nebulae, nebulae and galaxies and as he watched, they dimmed. “Did my eyes do that too?” Tony asked, and turned to look at Clint, who was grinning, a wide grin full of teeth that gave Tony a  _ very _ bad feeling.

Clint nodded. “Do you know what this means?” He asked, still grinning. Tony was afraid to ask, but shook his head anyways.  Clint leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Stark, you’re a human mood ring now.”

Tony snorted. “You can’t know that. Maybe I was just charging up. You know,” Tony said, and wiggled his fingers. “To  _ smite _ you. Because you’re a dick.”

Clint was still grinning, and he shook his head. “Nope. We get a glowing meter of how pissed off you are, at all times, courtesy of  _ those _ .” Clint crowed, and pointed at a particularly large crack on the back of his hand. He paused, and cocked his head to the side, still staring at Tony’s hand. “Do you think those  _ go _ anywhere?” Clint asked, eyes narrowed assessing.

Tony blinked, looked at Clint. Looked back at his hand. His gut reaction was ‘fuck no, I do not have portals to space in my  _ skin _ ,’ but really, after the day he’d had, it was pretty possible. “It’d be irresponsible not to check, right?” He said, trying for innocence and landing miles off.

Clint nodded, probably too enthusiastically. “Yeah, super irresponsible. Can’t have that, can we?” He said, all wide eyes and false earnestness. They looked at each other, and burst into laughter.

\---

And, an hour later, they were still going strong, Clint lying on the couch with a bag chex mix, throwing them at Tony as he did servo repairs on Dummy, alternating between trying to get them into the cracks, and into Tony’s mouth.

The door opened with a whoosh, and Tony looked up in surprise to see Natasha. “Have you seen-” She started, and Tony caught a cheezie in his mouth. She stopped, and Clint stuck his arm out, so it was visible over the back of the couch, and waved. Natasha sighed, smiling slightly, and picked her way around the couch. She gave Clint a look, and he lifted his feet obediently so she could sit, and then she turned her gaze to Tony.

He looked back at her, and tried to quell the uneasiness rising in his gut, tried to tell himself that they  _ weren’t _ afraid, they  _ weren’t  _ going to leave, but all that meant nothing if he couldn’t control this.

If he hurt them. If he lost control or just  _ lost _ , if something like yesterday happened again, if  _ anybody _ was in the blast radius, which, considering it was a  _ fucking supernova  _ included  _ the entire fucking solar system- _

A pretzel stick hit him square in between the eyes, and he startled, nearly hitting his head on Dummy’s arm. 

“Don't.” Natasha said. “Don't overthink this. Whatever happens-”

“Whatever happens?” Tony snapped, “Do you even know  _ what  _ happened? Do you-” Tony started, and yep, he was glowing again, but he was too pissed, too  _ afraid _ to care. “JARVIS, bring up the scan.” He ordered, and a blue-light hologram of him appeared, different parts lit up, showing his bones, his veins, the reactor. hovering above the ground. “Ok. This is the baseline, before New York. J?” He asked, and another image of him appeared beside it. This one was mostly the same, though there were a few more healed breaks, his brain was lit up bright almost-red, and the glow from the reactor was a little bit brighter. Tony pointed at it. “Mostly the same, but because, I don’t know, I had the entire  _ universe _ in my head, I’m using a lot more “processing power.” JARVIS-” He said, again, and there was a beat before both the previous scans disappeared and a different one took it’s place.

Tony already knew what this one looked like, so he watched Natasha and Clint’s faces, and saw their eyes widen. 

This scan was the same height and build as him, but the similarities ended there. 

Because this one was human-shaped, sure, but there was no wireframe of bones, no  _ nothing,  _ just a whited-out space because even JARVIS’s sensors, at least the ones in the tower, were never built to scan a star.

Tony waved his hand, and it disappeared. “Today, whatever happened after, the light, it was a  _ supernova _ . I  _ still _ don't know how the earth wasn't instantly vaporized. If I fuck up, if my control on  _ whatever this is _ slips even for an  _ instant, _ I could turn the entire planet to  _ ash _ .” He snapped. “Whatever happens’ could be the  _ extinction of the human race. _ ”  _ And it would be my fault _ . 

There was silence, for a second. 

“It won't,” Natasha said, and somehow, she sounded certain of that. “You told me, before. After the portal.” She said, and she was standing, now. Certain, and calm, like the centre of a hurricane. “You told me that you couldn't destroy the earth because the stars wouldn't let you. So you tell me,” she said, and took a step closer, “Do they still care as much as you said they did?”

“Yes.” Tony said, without hesitating for even a second.

Because he could feel it, more than even he could before, because this time, he wasn't on the outside, looking in. He was  _ part  _ of the stars, and their love for every scrap of life throughout the universe was part of him, too. 

“Then they’ll still stop you, if it comes to that. Which, for the record, I don’t think it will.” Natasha said, smiling a little. 

Tony smiled back, small and weary, because it didn’t matter if the earth stopped spinning today or a billion years from now. 

In the end, it would just be him, alone in a universe too big to be anything but cold.


End file.
